


The Writers' Block Anthology

by PhoenixArch_Angel, RocksAndLeaves



Category: Original Work, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Gen, One Shot Collection, Writers' Block Cure, Writing Exercise, dad for one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-19 07:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29622672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixArch_Angel/pseuds/PhoenixArch_Angel, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RocksAndLeaves/pseuds/RocksAndLeaves
Summary: A book of short stories to provide entertainment to the readers and practice for the writers.A blank slate to cope with writers' block.[Fandoms, Relationships, Characters, and Tags to be added]
Relationships: First One For All User & Sensei | All For One, Midoriya Izuku & Sensei | All For One
Kudos: 7
Collections: I Promise I'm Studying





	1. Answer Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writer: PhoenixArch_Angel
> 
> Characters: The First  
> Relationships: The First & All For One

_"Time is a funny thing, or so I have found. A second can last for hours, an hour can last for days, a day can last for years._

_Today can be like yesterday, tomorrow can be like eternity, and yesterday can be like a phantom waiting to return to today and tomorrow uninvited and unwanted._

_Things of today are truly yesterday and tomorrow is an eternity that never comes to the present. Yet so much has changed since yesterday, today, and tomorrow._

_I see you in him, like a shadow, but the two of you couldn’t be more opposite. How could someone like him be born to someone like you?_

_Did you know then, when you saw him for the first time? Did you know, holding him in your arms, swaddled in a blanket so innocent and new? Did you see it in the eyes of your wife? The blissful joy and abounding hope for this next chapter of life? Of **your** life? _

_Did you know? Did it scare you? Could you not accept something so good? So much so that you just couldn’t let yourself be happy? To destroy any trace of this new life you attempted to fashion for yourself on a foundation of glass?_

_Is that why she fled? Or did you send them away? Is that why you made him quirkless? Answer me, brother, why are you afraid of someone so much like you?"_


	2. Inner Voices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writer: PhoenixArch_Angel

I've noticed that despite an adult exterior, whenever fears or my most inner pain comes to the forefront of my consciousness the voice often takes shape in that of a child. A small child. A small, scared, crying child.  
It will ask questions in a small voice. Most of the questions my adult brain will know the answer to but this child will still ask anyway.  
It will also make statements. Statements that could only ever sound right in the voice of a child. If an adult were to say them, society would frown upon it even though it likes to tell the lie that it is accepting.

There is another voice, however. An angry one. An angry adult who likes to scream.  
It too asks questions, though it knows the answer to them. It asks questions in a harsh tone usually followed by a longer passive-aggressive dialogue.  
This one makes demands. It seethes. It roars and throws things.  
This voice is also scared. But, instead of being upfront, it likes to hide behind a wall of fury. Afraid of letting anyone in.  
Unlike the child who would welcome someone to comfort it, the adult must be convinced to let the guard down. To be pacified. 

The third voice is usually drowned out. The small, but rational and authoritative voice that knows right. The one I should always listen to but fail to give a microphone. The one that is comforting. The one that knows everything will be alright. The one that can settle all questions and dowse out the fiery anger. The one that is peaceful.  
Once the other two throw their fits is usually when the third can speak, almost like an afterthought though this should not be so. When I'm already worn and tired, sore from the battering, I finally give the third a microphone. And I always feel better. But I never learn.

These voices rattle my mind. Their screams and cries ricocheting off the walls of my skull. All the while I stare, smiling, at people, places, off in the distance, as I hopelessly try and give the impression that all is quiet.  
I'll look at my friends, knowing that usually they can make the screaming stop, but recently when I see them I hear two voices sobbing between my ears, "Please, don't leave me."


End file.
